


Spoiled

by missmichellebelle



Series: Strawberry Sandwich [5]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Daddies, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:19:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You spoil her,” Chris says, voice soft and quiet in the night, and Darren makes a noise in his throat, shifting Sophie’s weight.</p><p>“She fell asleep,” Darren answers, and Chris looks at him, fond and half amused.</p><p>“Because you were carrying her,” he teases lightly.</p><p>“Well, her feet hurt.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spoiled

It’s been a long day.

A long day full of walking and sight seeing and buying way,  _way_  too many things, but sometimes Sophie looks up at him and Darren can’t really help it. That’s why him and Chris make a good team—one of them will always know when to say no if the other one is too-tightly wrapped around their daughter’s tiny, tiny finger.

She’s asleep now, arms draped loosely over Darren’s shoulders as he piggy-backs her small body on the walk back to the hotel. Chris walks close beside him, quiet, gazing up at the sky every now and again, their arms brushing or Chris sometimes reaching backwards to splay a protective hand on Sophie’s back. 

“You spoil her,” Chris says, voice soft and quiet in the night, and Darren makes a noise in his throat, shifting Sophie’s weight.

“She fell asleep,” Darren answers, and Chris looks at him, fond and half amused.

“Because you were carrying her,” he teases lightly.

“Well, her feet hurt.”

Her shoes are off now, tucked into Darren’s backpack, the one Chris is carrying over one of his shoulders.

“I do it, too,” Chris hums, glancing back at where Sophie’s face is pressed against Darren’s jacket, mouth parted and eyelashes still against her cheeks, curls tamed into two loose ponytails. Darren watches him, the way Chris’s eyes soften, and feels a surge in his chest.

 _His family_.

“If it was up to me, she’d never walk again,” Darren states, shifting her again. He can feel the soft, insistent puffs of her breath against his shoulder blade. “Carried around everywhere, wherever she wanted to go.”

“I think she’d get bored,” Chris clucks. “She has too much you in her.”

Darren rolls his eyes, because Chris tends to overuse the whole  _biological_  card, but—yeah. Darren wouldn’t like it much, either. He loves to run too much. He loves to be free. And so does Sophie. If it was safe, she probably would have marched home, barefoot and tired and fighting to keep her head up.

She’s his little princess, but she’s also his little soldier.

Darren shifts her weight again, and Chris gives him a look.

“Want to trade?” He gestures towards the backpack, and Darren contemplates it before shaking his head.

“We’re almost there,” he huffs. “Besides, this is how parents work out, right? Lugging their kids around?”

“Running around after them?”

“Ignoring our own dinners to make sure they eat theirs?”

“Playing superheroes?”

“Practicing dance routines over and over and  _over_ ,” Darren groans, and Chris laughs, the sound cutting through the night. Sophie shifts, and they both come to a stop, watching her. But she opens her mouth, yawns, mumbles softly, and turns her head to face the other way. Chris leans closer, and Darren doesn’t have to see to know that his husband is placing a kiss to their daughter’s hair.

“Come on, let’s get back,” Chris whispers, and Darren nods, starting to walk again. “Before she wakes up, and before your arms fall off.”

“My arms are not going to fall off,” Darren gripes, petulantly. “But  _fuck_ , are six year olds supposed to be this heavy? I don’t remember being this heavy when I was six.”

“Probably because you were half the size.”

“Ha ha ha,” Darren monotones, but smiles as Chris places a fleeting, buzzing kiss to his cheek. “In all honesty, my back hurts more than anything else.”

Darren feels the light brush of Chris’s hand against his hip.

“I’ll give you a massage after we put Soph to bed.”

“Perfect husband,” Darren sighs, already looking forward to it. He turns his head and puckers his lips, and Chris presses another too-quick kiss there.

“You better believe it.”


End file.
